Day 4

A new day dawned and thus began the longest and most exhausting day of our vacation.

Can you guess where we went?

There's this great overlook as you're approaching San Francisco from the north (take exit 442 off the 101). You park your car and hike up a little hillside and voila! There's the most famous (arguably so) bridge in the world. Several people were there, enjoying the view and taking pictures.

My family was laughing at me because I kept offering to take people's pictures (with their cameras, of course). Hey, I appreciate it when people take a pic of our family with our camera so we can all be together in the shot, so why not offer that to others? Besides, most of the people I did it for were from foreign lands, so I was actually promoting global harmony. International war may have been averted.

Those silhouettes really are us:



(I'm the short one.)

Here we are, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. Don't the kids look excited?

Soon we arrived at a beautiful coastal park called Land's End in San Fran's north-western quarter. It's got gorgeous views, cool trees and nice paths for jogging (if you can stomach that sort of thing).

See the Golden Gate in the distance?



Don't miss the slightly creepy cave near the Land's End parking lot. Step inside to hear the booming of the surf hitting the cliffs. It sounds like a bomb going off, but in a good way.



Our stomachs started rumbling so we headed into the city itself.




No, we did not ride a trolley, but I did take this ubiquitous picture of one:

We had lunch at Pier 39, a tourist trap if ever there was one, but hey! We were tourists.

We ate sourdough, clam chowder and an awesome salad at a place called "Boudin's". I know sourdough bread was invented in or around San Fran, but I was a bit disappointed. I love the stuff, but apparently only when it's warm and very well buttered. Otherwise it's just sort of cold, dry and, well... sour.




One of the things Pier 39 is famous for is its sea lion population. There are bleachers set up on the dock so people can sit and watch the fat, dripping, boisterous fellows sunning themselves and/or dueling for dominance.

 It's pretty sad that there needs to be a sign telling people not to throw things at the wildlife. Geez...

After barely restraining ourselves from pelting the sea lions with bottles, shoes and other handy projectiles, we hopped on a boat...

...and ventured past that same bridge to...

 ... our country's weirdest national "park"...

...Alcatraz.

 

Seeing the national park emblem under the penitentiary sign made me laugh out loud.



















 Once we landed on the island, we proceeded to the "movie theater" where we watched a short documentary on the history of Alcatraz. (It was this bit of media that helped me understand why someone had spray-painted "Indians welcome" in the above picture.)

While waiting for the next showing to begin, we moseyed through the wisely-placed gift shop. Jeff had been looking for a particular item and just happened to see a perfect one in this very place.



Behold, Jeff's new...






 ...jacket.














Complete with authentic identification tag:

After completing our most bizarre purchase at a gift shop ever, we continued on to the "big house" for the audio tour.

I have to tell you, that I didn't initially want to do the walkman directed audio tour (you know, where you put on the headphones and walk where the voice tells you) but I'm so glad I did. It didn't cost anything extra and we learned so much. It was easy to stay on track and the tour was incredibly informative. There were clips of interviews with actual former inmates and guards. I wouldn't have enjoyed our trip to "the Rock" nearly as much if I hadn't been willing to plant those flimsy headphones on my head.

Cell, sweet cell.

Twinsies:




Three levels of comfortable accommodations:

 Fancy a shower?

If you really stand out as an exemplary individual, you earn yourself an exclusive stay in "the Hole".



 A former inmate featured in the audio tour said he used to drop a button on the floor while in solitary confinement so he could find it in the dark. Once he found it, he'd drop it again and again just to give himself something to do.

Newly satisfied with our own lives "on the outs", we left the prison island behind and headed back to the city. Apparently, the night tour is even better, but they didn't offer it the day we were there.

Our trip to Alcatraz was Jeff's favorite part of our entire trip. Back at Pier 39, the kids' favorite part was just about to be experienced...

Magowan's Infinite Mirror Maze is hardly noticeable from the outside. It's housed in an unassuming building on the second story of the Pier next to one of many gift shops. You could easily walk past it, but don't!

Initially, I stayed outside, content to play the part of the "boring mom" 'cause I do it so well. (When you got it, you got it.) However, just a few minutes later, Jeff emerged with a look of child-like wonder on his 40 year old face, informing me that I was going in.

We paid the guy behind the counter another $5 and he handed me some gloves--the super-cheapo-plastic-baggie-type--which we were all required to wear. (That's how they keep the mirrors from getting smudged which would ruin the whole illusory affect.)

"Go find the kids," Jeff told me.

A challenge, huh?

I stepped into the maze...

Words can't describe what a weird feeling it was to be walking around in there, seeing myself everywhere, seeing my kids, but wait! That's not really them. It's only their reflection. And so is that! There was a sense of accomplishment when you reached out your hand to what you thought was your loved one and they reached back to grab you. Delaney said she appreciated her family more afterwards. :)

Of course they had music pumping and flashing colored lights throughout our journey.

I took a lot of pictures, but sadly these are the best:






There was no time limit and we could have played a bit longer, but we had dinner to eat, so we hoofed it over to...


(Thanks to Matt and Erin, some strangers out there in cyberspace, from whom I borrowed the above photo.)

Now, normally I'm a stickler about eating square meals. Nutrition is very important to me. However, there are rare occasions when I suggest we eat things of this nature for our evening repast:



Surprisingly, no one balked at my idea. ;)

Delaney's had not yet arrived:

This sundae glass needed a moat:
















And a few frenzied moments later, Jeff needed a pillow:




After gorging ourselves on the most decadent of dinners, we were ready for the final excursion of this very full day. Neither Jeff nor the kids had any idea what we were going to be doing, so I dropped some hints which I hoped would be tantalizing.

"You might find yourself the object of ridicule," I warned them.

"A soup kitchen?" Tobias queried.

Nope.

"Experiences like this sometimes have a tendency to be cheesy or sleazey, but I feel confident that that won't be the case tonight."

"A gay bar?" Jeff joked.

Uhhh...yeah, honey. When in Rome...

Moments later, we were pulling up to a parking lot in the Tenderloin district. Unfortunately, the lot I'd found online ahead of time was full. The attendant pointed down an alley to a little garage door in a building, saying, "They can park your car for you."

Gingerly, we drove down there and asked if they had room. As this attendant was affirming that, I noticed that it was a valet parking situation. In other words, we were expected to leave our keys to our car (which was full of all our luggage, including a stash of cash) with some stranger, pay him for his services and hope to find our way back to the alley in a few hours.

What kind of idiots are that trusting?

Apparently, we are. (I noticed later, when we returned and found our car unpilfered, that our claim ticket informed us that the lot owners were not responsible for loss or damage of property. Ha ha ha!)

Off we walked to this place:

As soon as Jeff saw it, he asked, very worriedly, "You aren't taking us somewhere to watch belly dancers, are you?"

Let's see...am I likely to take my husband and son where they will be surrounded by the toned and mysteriously gyrating abdomens of probably buxom and deeply cleavaged exotic women?

NO!

Through the doors of the Marrakech restaurant we walked and I informed the host that we were there for the show.

"Ah, the magic show? Right this way."

With the proverbial cat now out of the bag, we followed him down a set of stairs to this unusual room...

...where we were seated and offered a menu.

With our stomachs still overflowing burpaciously with hot fudge sauce and whipped cream, we weren't hungry in the least, but I got such good tickets for the show itself that I felt compelled to fuel the place's economy in spite of the sloshiness of my gut and the tightness of my wallet. (I didn't confer with the bulginess of my buttocks.)

It was a Moroccan joint, so we ordered an authentic dish called a 'bastilla'. Glancing at the description, I saw that it was made of chicken and some veggies all wrapped in some filo dough. Sounded good enough.

Well, when it arrived, I noticed it had fine white powder generously sprinkled over the top. See?



Ummm...powdered sugar with my chicken and vegetables? Okay...


It wasn't bad, but it was awfully weird.
I felt like a bit of a fraud when the waitress asked me, "How do you like it? It's delicious, yeah?"


"Mmm hmmm," I said, reluctantly plunging my fork in for yet another bizarre bite.

(I have this issue with not wanting to offend nice, well-meaning people who present me with food. I did draw the line once, though, when we were at a Thai restaurant and they provided us with a free 'dessert'. I spooned into the rice-pudding-like mixture and came up with some peas and corn. No, thanks!)

The magician, for whose show we were waiting, a Peter Morrison by name, strolled around the 'kasbah lounge' introducing himself to each and every patron, doing several teaser tricks to whet our appetites.

He was amazing! Behold the look on Tobias' face:



(It's no small feat to impress that boy.)

At one point, Peter asked Delaney to announce which card she had picked seconds earlier.

"It was a two of clover-thingy," she responded.

Peter just rolled with it.

(A few tables over, I heard a young boy describe his card as a nine of black shovel-thing, so apparently Delaney was in good company.)

Eventually, we were seated in the small theater where the official magic happens. It only seated about 25 people so it was intimate enough to feel special but without feeling creepy. What followed was about an hour and a half's worth of remarkable tricks and illusions.

Peter called at least seven people up on to the stage to 'help' him with different parts of his act which is lots of fun for groundlings like us. Here, Delaney had to pick a number and place a large die into a lidded box with her number face-up and Peter would guess which number was hers.

Here he is, staring deeply into Tobias' eyes (to prove he wasn't peeking) while Delaney situated the die.

He got her number every time!

Anyway, this magician was very talented but also completely down to earth and not full of himself. He made all of us feel welcome and appreciated AND he put on a great show to boot. I would highly recommend going to see him if you find yourself in San Fran. I don't know if they're always available or not, but I got seriously discounted tickets through goldstar.com.

We left the theater around 10:30 and were delighted to find our car and its keys waiting for us.

Unwilling to pay $200+ for one night's sleep in the city (plus another $40 to park our car in the hotel's parking lot!), we drove twenty minutes south to a more properly priced motel where we promptly fell into bed after a very long day.

Whew! This may very well be the longest blog post I've ever written.

Day 5

The following morning, we slept in a bit, but it wasn't long before we were in the car and headed back to the city.




We parked on Sansome St. and walked down to where it meets Filbert.




It is there that you will find the quietly celebrated "Filbert Steps". There are 600 in all and they lead to the top of Telegraph Hill.

These are only the beginning:
































































(Thanks to some unknown person on Flickr for the above photo.)

It was quite beautiful, walking up a steep hillside, flanked by gorgeous, historic homes and well tended gardens. Apparently, a flock of wild parrots haunts the area, but we neither heard nor saw them.

It didn't take us too long to scale the hill and emerge from the foliage to behold Coit Tower.

However, what I found most intriguing about the entire attraction was this restroom:

That section with the triangle on it is a door that slides open automatically. Once that happens, you are welcomed into a roomy cubicle where you can relieve yourself in peace.

(Okay, I wasn't really as excited about it as I appear in this photo, although I was glad to see it after ascending all those steps.)

But wait! There's more!

This restroom comes equipped with...




...a fun mirror, apparently so you can entertain yourself if your business is slow in transacting.

If, once inside, you are confused as to how to proceed with your endeavor, you can press a button for instructions on how to use such an unusual restroom and a soothing female voice will begin to talk to you. Unfortunately, her speech was very muffled, so soothing or not, it wasn't particularly informative.


There is no flushing handle because this is a restroom of the future. 

You see, it's self cleaning, so every time someone leaves, the door slides shut and the entire inside gets a wash down--even the floor.

As nice as this all might sound, the whole process was very slow. Each time someone came out, it was likely to be another three minutes before the cleaning was done and another person could enter. In fact, there was a line shortly after we got there, but the people in it quickly grew impatient and decided that they could wait because none of them stuck around long.



Meanwhile, Tobias was entertaining some young, pretty girls. He struck a pose as a gargoyle (that's what he wants to be when he grows up, by the way) as they were walking past. One began to giggle and took multiple photos of him with her high-end camera.


The boy just hates attention.











Next we were off to Lombard Street--the renowned most crooked street in the world.

 (My pics didn't turn out very well, so I got the above shot from Wikipedia.)

A couple of years ago, Tobias went on a youth mission to care for the homeless. They spent some time in San Francisco where they discovered a restaurant in Chinatown that Tobias has been talking about ever since. He raved about their flounder. If someone can cook fish in such a manner that Tobias wants to eat it, then I've got to go there. Thus, our next stop was at the...

Say it with me: the New Woey Loy Goey. (Great name, eh?)

PF Chang's, this is not. In fact, it's sort of like the Mel's Diner of the Far East.

There were several of these placards on the wall above the counter:

I figured they were menus because of the prices under each column. Wouldn't it be a great dare-game to commit to eating whatever you pointed at? That could get ugly.

We ordered several dishes, which were very nicely priced, by the way.

I only saw one flounder dish, so I asked Tobias if he was sure the fish he'd liked was flounder and he assured me that it was. Thus, we ordered the "pan fried flounder".



When it arrived, Tobias reluctantly declared, "Oooohhh...ummm...

"...that's not it."

Yeah, I certainly wouldn't expect a whole, headed, finned fish to be my son's idea of tastiness. Or my idea of tastiness.

Yes, we ate it, though there were several innards which we passed on. Here's proof:

Here's our bill.




Well, there's no arguing with that!















Soon we were off in search of the MOMA.

--a short time later--

What's wrong with these two people?

They're suffering from a major case of driving-in-San-Francisco. (Okay, so Jeff is the only one who actually drove, but I was his faithful navigator with map in hand, barking out, "Turn left here!" only to be told, "I can't turn left here!" over and over and over again.)

If you've ever suffered from this malady, you know exactly what I'm talking about. All of the traffic, all of the clueless pedestrians, all of the one-way streets, all of the hills. (Did I mention our car has a stick shift?!?!?)

 It's madness, I'm telling you. Madness!

 One consolation is seeing all of the old restored houses:

We finally reached the MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) and were faced with a different kind of madness--it's called...

...modern art.





This was one of my favorites:

 Here's Delaney in front of yet another example of prime aesthetics:

 All sarcasm aside, there were some pretty cool pieces, too. Check out this one which incorporated its viewers into itself:



Yep, that's Jeff and Delaney.

Or how do you like this one?

 

 
It looked like a crumpled piece of paper until you got up close to it. Clever...


Right around 5:30, we were all arted out and ready to leave the bay city altogether, so we did.


*a dumb side note* When I was in college, I fulfilled my earth science requirement by taking a class called "Earthquake Country" (no, seriously and yes, I did graduate from a reputable university.) The only things I remember from the class were 1-There are four types of seismic waves, one of which is referred to as a love wave and 2-We watched a movie entitled "San Francisco--the City that Waits to Die". No joke. Great for tourism.)

Day 6

Today, we drove home.

 The End

My Lenten Epiphany

It's only in the past few years that I've become aware of Lent. Not having grown up in a religious household, I knew nothing of it as a child. Though I became a Christian at age 12, I have been involved in a denomination which never references the season, at least not that I can recall.

I enjoy hearing what people partaking in Lent decide to give up and why. However, though I've considered it many times, I've never taken part in it myself.

My reason?

Pride.

This is in no way a pronouncement on others who do observe Lent, but I've just known for myself that if I succeeded in the 40 days of abstinence from *fill in the blank* that I would feel... 

...quite proud of myself.

Um, who does that sound like?

Hmmmm...could it be... 

...Satan?

Where's the spiritual value in feeling like Lucifer right before he was cast out of God's presence?

Happily, today I had a Lenten epiphany that has given me a new and valuable perspective. It was spawned by the words of a pastor. He said something to the effect of: "It is good to exercise the 'say-no-to-self' muscle because sometimes it is very important to say no to yourself."

Hmmm...yeah. Lives are regularly ruined when people don't choose to say no to themselves.

Several times a week, I jog, but not because I enjoy it. In fact, I can honestly say (in a very whiny voice) that I don't enjoy it. Sure, there is a small sense of pride when I'm finished with the three miles of bad attitude, but that's not my motivation. Rather, I know it's important to exercise all the muscles involved in the somewhat distasteful process so that they continue to function well. I want to be healthy physically. So, too, do I want to be healthy spiritually.

Remember this guy?

He was the captain of the spaceship in the movie, WALL-E. He was piloting an entire city-sized-craft of people who thought they never had to say no to themselves.

Maybe it's a bit silly of me to reference a fictional work to prove a realistic point, but I thought the movie-makers did an excellent job of showing us in an amusing manner where people who have no sense of self-denial can end up: planet-less, weighing 500 pounds and having lost the ability to walk across a room.


I do believe that I could now observe the season of prohibition for a right reason (and not feel like the Father of Lies afterward).

Will I? And if so, in what manner will I deny myself?

I'll get back to you on that...

;)

Jeet Yet?

I'm up to my earlobes in planning this year's surprise family vacation.

However, don't get too excited (I love how so many people eagerly question us about our trips because they all want in on the big reveal). It's going to be a lesser affair this time around. Additionally, Jeff knows where we'll be staying for one night of the 6 day venture, so he's not completely in the dark like he usually is. The kids, however, are completely clueless.

(By the way, Jeff likes being surprised about the details--everything from where we're going, how we'll get there, who we'll see and what we'll eat. It was his initial casual remark of "surprise me" years ago when I was planning our first official family vacation that started this whole clandestine tradition. What I'm trying to say is that I don't do this because I'm some control freak. My control issues are completely separate from this annual occurrence. ;) )

As I was saying...we're doing a scaled-down version this time around, so when you come here to read about it later on, don't cue your internal drum roll as you click on my blog. Your internal kazoo might be more appropriate.

One of the reasons for a diminished venture is because we think it's time to tour some colleges with the kids. Tobias is a junior this year and Delaney's right behind him in 8th grade. It won't be long at all before they consider where they'll go to school and they can't do that very effectively without being familiar with some universities.

Another reason is that Jeff couldn't get any time off of work in the summer and most of the places we like to go are frozen over until mid-June. (We're a woodsy-lakey-mountainy-kind-of-family.)

Anyway, several people have asked me questions about trip planning and I thought I'd share a few tips. That brings me back to my original question...

Jeet yet?

If yes, were you pleased? If not, is that because you weren't sure where to go to do so? Well, let Trip Advisor help you!

When planning a trip, Trip Advisor is probably my favorite website.

Let's say I know we're going to be rolling through Port Angeles, Washington right around lunch time on day 3 of our trip. I know we're likely to be very hungry because we will have had a cheapo continental breakfast four hours earlier and will have spent the morning hiking around Hurricane Ridge up in the Olympic National Forrest (I wish!). So, I cruise over to TripAdvisor and type "Port Angeles, WA" in the search bar at the top right.

Next, I choose 'restaurants' from the column on the left.

I know that we'll have a long drive to Portland ahead of us after lunch and we probably won't want anything too heavy sitting in our guts the entire way, so I'm thinking Thai food. (Hmmm...when am I not thinking Thai food?) Therefore, I scroll down in the 'cuisine' box until I see 'Thai' and check the box next to it. If you're going to be in a big city, you'll get a list of several Thai restaurants in order of best reviewed to worst reviewed (or not yet reviewed). In the case of Port Angeles, there's apparently only one Thai place.

Click on the restaurant's name and scroll down to read the reviews of customers. Wow, apparently, Sabai Thai is really good. Yay for Port Angelesians.

I like to read several reviews to get a feel for the place. Sometimes people will mention a specific dish that's especially good or they'll warn you that it's a cash only place (which I've learned is important to know!).

If I'm sold on the place, then I'll Google-map from Hurricane Ridge to Sabai Thai so we can easily find it. 

Obviously, you may suddenly feel like eating pizza instead of the Thai food you planned a month prior. Then change things up! I do find it helps things run more smoothly if I plan things out but we don't always stick to it.

Ruing the Day

A couple of years ago, I happened upon a very entertaining blog by a woman who lives somewhere out there in Cyberville. Her posts were witty and full of great photos which she had taken herself. It was good stuff. Additionally, I was impressed by her honesty and straightforwardness. I became a regular reader.


After a while, I began to wonder if she was sharing too much. What she had to say about other people often painted them in a bad light. Of course, I didn't know these people (though I saw what they looked like from her prodigious supply of pics), but lots of people who read her blog did know these people. Her life wasn't a sit-com or a drama where we could all watch and feel fine about our intense feelings for the different "characters". These were real people who didn't have an effective way of answering for themselves if they felt misrepresented.


Anyway, one day I was greatly saddened to read a post in which she referred to her teenage son as an ***hole and a ****head. Now, I don't for one instant doubt that those were the words that popped into her mind when he committed whatever nefarious act upset her so much and I'm not saying there's never a time for her to share that sentiment with a couple of close friends, but to declare it on her public blog?!?!

I am a huge believer in acknowledging reality. I find it vital to think about and discuss many issues even if they are uncomfortable or distasteful.

Not, however, in any situation nor in any manner.

There are times when the recognition of subjects is inappropriate. For example, if doing so will result in an unnecessary burden for the hearer, then what is the point? Also, we need to consider who ought to hear the things we say since it can be very destructive to involve others needlessly.

This notion greatly influences what I write about here. I realize that readers who don't know me well may come here and get the idea that I live a nearly perfect life without trial nor tribulation. That is not at all the perception that I want to give. However, due to the completely public nature of this blog (anyone with internet access can come here, though not many actually do!) I don't lay out all my issues for others to see.

Why?

It's primarily because most of my problems have to do with people and I don't deem it appropriate to fill your computer screen with my own one-sided dirt.

Take my children, for instance. They are wonderful and I love them more than life itself. However, my relationships with them are regularly upsetting. I'm not denying that reality by not including details of these trials here for you all to see. In fact, I often would like to type up some situation because I think it could be helpful to other parents to read about my experiences. Yet, I am very cautious in doing so.

The reason: I value my relationships with my kids and I don't want to jeopardize them. Whenever I include something about my kids (or my husband) here and I wonder if it will embarrass or offend them, I ask them to read it over before I hit the 'publish' button. I ask them, "Do you mind if I share this? Do you feel I represented you fairly?"

Then, according to their answer, I may or may not alter the post.

Again, the issue isn't: "Is what I'm sharing true?" but rather: "Is my sharing of this appropriate?"

Once my kids are grown and off enjoying their own adventures in parenting, I may very well write a book about our previous years together full of lots of amusing and/or distressing illustrations. Now, however, we are still in the midst of it and I don't deem it proper to do so.

Once you have declared something, you can't undeclare it. You can deny it. You can apologize for it. You can even claim temporary insanity...

...but it'll still be stuck in the minds of everyone who heard or read your original proclamation.

A few years back, someone I love very much appeared to be making (what I considered to be) a huge mistake. In my intense desire to keep "Pat" (do you like how I'm using a unisex name to help maintain this person's anonymity?) from making this beyond-a-minor-blunder, I decided to be honest...ferociously honest.

I explained what I saw as a likely outcome on the road Pat was treading. To add credence to the reasonableness of my opinion, I included references to some of Pat's past blunders and present foibles.

It was not a pleasant conversation. It was not a conversation that I wanted to have. I looked and sounded like a first class witch and I knew it.

The only reason why I was willing to say what I said was because I sincerely love Pat and thought that my ruthless onslaught of reality could save him/her from an even more intense heartache than what I was presently inflicting.

Well, my friends, I regret a lot about that situation. Sadly, I believe that I will until my dying day.

Yes, what I said to Pat was true and my intentions were excellent, but those aren't inherently good reasons for saying just anything.

Thank God it was a private conversation. Publicity would have exponentially compounded the problems resulting from my savage dose of honesty.

Now, with all this said, I acknowledge that there is most definitely a time and a place for us to go to war verbally in both private and public settings. We just need to make sure it's the correct time before doing so...

...or there will be regrets.